let this be a warning

"Don't let this fading summer pass you by...
you thought that you could outrun sorrow
Take your own advice
This thunder and lightning gets you rain" 

big loser

if there's one thing i've done exceptionally well the last few weeks, it's losing big.

(if only i could) sleep all summer

i saw Neko Case perform at the Egg in Albany with some good friends last night: a college friend, a friend from my recent graduate program, and one of my best friends, my partner of 7 years (he turned 30 yesterday).

Neko came out to perform this song for her encore. just her and a guitarist. i was in tears by the end of it. something about sitting with all these people who i loved so much, people i've needed in different ways at different stages of my life, some who i've gotten much closer to over the years and others who i know time and distance will eventually pull us apart, not knowing the future of things, not understanding the past, and wanting so much to pull it all in tight and protect it from the erosion of time ever-marching onward. i've never been so afraid for a moment to end.

so i'm just gonna put this video here, and some lyrics that particularly spoke to me, like a little fragile time capsule for me to come back to another day and remember how i felt in this particular moment, tears streaming down my face in a dark spaceship-like concert venue, afraid for the lights to turn back on again.

"I would change for you but, babe, that doesn't mean I'm gonna be a better man

Give the ocean what I took from you so one day you could find it in the sand
And hold it in your hands again

Cold ways kill cool lovers
Strange ways we used each other
Why won't you fall back in love with me?"

alight on a rooftop with me, and let's nestle together and cast our gaze on the stars

lyrics for Andrew Bird's "Night Sky" (transcribed by me, as i listened to the mp3 below)

chorus:
sound is a wave, like a wave on the ocean
plays the ocean like a violin
pushing and pulling from shore to shore
biggest melody you never heard before

if i were the night sky (x2)
here's my lullaby
lullaby to the eve bye
if i were the night sky

verse 1:
what if we hadn't been born at the same time
what if you were 75 and i were 9
and i come visit you
bring you cookies in an old folks' home
would you be there alone?
when the late summer lightning fires off in your arms
will i remember to breathe?
you know i never will
if i could convince you that i mean you no harm
just wanna show you how not to need (/leave?)

what if i were the night sky?
here's my lullaby
lullaby to the eve bye
if i were the night

verse 2:
what if we hadn't been each other at the same time?
would you tell me all the stories from when you're young and in your prime
will i rock you to sleep
would you tell me all the secrets you don't need to keep
would i still miss you?
oh would you then
had been mine

chorus

[download mp3]

Jens Lekman's "Cowboy Boots"

the song i can't get out of my head lately is Jens Lekman's new song "Cowboy Boots." ever since i heard it for the first time at his performance in San Francisco, i've wanted to hear it over and over again.

Jens Lekman - Cowboy boots (acoustic session) by mouxlaloulouda

i scoured the internet for lyrics and guitar tabs, but found nothing (the lyrics out there currently are extremely inaccurate and it's too early perhaps for tabs). so, having listened to the live performances enough times to know the lyrics by heart, i thought i would do the internet a service and share them:

"Cowboy Boots" lyrics by Jens Lekman

you know that thing when you have the same dream

seven hundred thirty nights in a row?

and you think your dream is trying to tell you something

yea you say "tell me something i don't already know"

[chorus]

just pour me a drink

so i can refuse 

to raise my glass 

to these sad and worn out midnight shoes

in my next dream, i want a pair of cowboy boots

the kind that walks the straightest and the most narrow route

anywhere but back to you

here we are down the same old street

here we are with nothing to say

your little hand trying to make it into her's,

but she puts it in her pocket and looks away

i keep my eyes on the sidewalk for something flippable like a dime

i wanna know how you forgive someone, 

someone you've forgiven so many times

[chorus]

i really want to learn the guitar part to this song so i can record a version of me singing it. can anyone out there help me out with the tabs?

i want my phd in Springsteenology

i wanna go on a Springsteen-themed road trip, listening to Bruce the whole way and visiting all the seedy little towns in Jersey. i want to see all the towns and streets mentioned in all his songs, i want to grow a beard and wear a denim jacket over a muscle shirt and drive in an open top convertible down the Jersey turnpike screaming "NO RETREAT, BABY, NO SUUURRENDEEEEEER!" man, how awesome would that be?

but for now i'll settle for listening to a ton of Bruce songs, dancing in my bedroom and learning how to play my favorites on the cheap little guitar i got a few summers ago when i decided i needed something to go with my harmonica. today i churned this puppy out, along with a cover of "Fire," which i'm too embarrassed to expose to public scrutiny. but this one is alright so i'll share:

my favorite lyric? "is a dream a lie if it don't come true, or is it something worse?"

hm, i'm not sure when my blog and all my writing became about Bruce Springsteen, but i hope nobody minds. i mean, he sings about broken dreams and broken promises and looking for love and redemption and he fills me with SO much joy that i can't hardly help myself from sharing it. sorry if that's not yr bag. (unfettered joy, that is).

murderville

i had a really nice dream last night. the kind of dream that makes getting thru today a lot easier, just the thing i needed. in my dream i was at some dismal party and i wasn't having any fun, so my friend K asked me to sing a song (for karaoke, no less!) called "Escape from Murderville" or something like that by the Smashing Pumpkins (though the song itself sounded more like it was by the Talking Heads) and it was all about casting off the expectations for a (financially) successful mediocre suburban life, and starting to live with excitement and vigor and daring. we were singing and dancing to it and i actually felt some sense of relief.

i woke up still singing the song and googled "Murderville" but nothing useful came up. now i want to write this song and perform it in real life.

"buy a big house and forget who we were? fuck that, let's go dancing."
-stef

why i don't listen to the radio any more and only watch tv on the internet, OR, why the youth are starting to change

i got home from work today and, exhausted from bickering with administration about some sketchy misdeeds they are trying to pull on one of my special ed students, sat down in front of my computer to unwind, eat cake, and read some blogs.

i went to TigerBeatdown and started reading the first article up, something about Miley Cyrus and the "search for a feminist pop star."

um. ok. what?

i was unaware we were collectively searching for a feminist pop star. and i was confused about the parameters; have "feminist" and "pop" ever gone together? when was the last feminist "pop star?"* none come to mind.

still, i continued reading, interested to see where this was going. as it turns out, i guess Miley has recently released a new single and with it, a new music video. the article glosses over the use of tired metaphors and symbols: birds, cages, wings on ladies. you get the idea. and pretty soon, i was tired of reading. but i skipped over to youtube and quickly ran a search of Miley's video.


now, admittedly, i am so out of touch with popular youth culture these days. i find my career as an educator has made me more averse to children than understanding of their behaviors and interests. when i sit down at my computer to look up the latest top 40s or to read an article about Justin Bieber's hair, i consider it "research" for my work, rather than pleasure reading.

but here i am, on a thursday afternoon, researching and talking about Miley Cyrus. surely there are better ways of spending my, and your, time.

well, after watching the first minute of the video (and believe me, that was about all i could stomach) i continued reading the aforementioned article, and found i couldn't get far in that either before i had to write a little rant of my own. because the article, and, it seems, a lot of feminist bloggers out there, seem to be discussing the video, and Miley's career, for that matter, in these terms, and these terms only:
1) the rampant sexuality, and whether it detracts from the potential "feminism" present in the music and the act of her, a 17-year-old girl, being a successful "musician." (i use those quotation marks with a generous helping of skepticism, since, as far as i am aware, Miley does not produce any music of her own.)
2) her lyrics are "empowering," thus, she is a feminist because her music speaks to young girls. (again, the quotations around empowering.)

oh... the rant that is about to unfold!

as far as the blogosphere is concerned, Miley is either a feminist if you just focus on the words and the music, or a hypocrite if you look at her flapping those Victoria's Secret wings in the video. my adamant and vocal disagreement is: SHE IS NEITHER!

i agree with my blogger sisters that she can't be a feminist and a sex kitten. but not because i believe sex and beauty can't be empowering (because they can). i have a problem with the whole Disney virgin/pop princess image Miley tries to evoke, alongside the over-sexed performer she tries to be. madonna/whore dichotomy anyone!? i understand young women can be confused, because the patriarchal culture has us thinking we want to be so many things it's hard to choose sometimes, but you cannot evoke whatever persona whenever you want and call it "show business." (whore!)

that brings me to my problem with the "search" in the first place. because pop stars, almost by definition, sell sex, and use sex to sell more sex, under the guise of "making music." it's not music that's on display, it is Miley's precocious boobs and sultry legs. did Tracy Chapman ever prance around in a cage, half-clad in a leather corset and knee-high boots? no, because she was too busy writing music and winnin' Grammies! shoo...

a pop star can never make empowering music, because empowerment is not what sells albums or makes a trashy music video, or gets throngs of tweeny girls to go to your concert (oh, but if it were!) empowerment isn't about hyping up celebrity culture, nor is it about self-worship and hubris, it is about feeling confident enough to take agency and do something for yourself and others around you.

but what is being called "empowerment" in Miley's case, is actually a strong case of entitlement. here's a sampling of the lyrics from the newly released "Can't Be Tamed," the song some people are lauding as a "kick-ass girl power anthem":

For those who don't know me, I can get a bit crazy
Have to get my way, 24 hours a day
'Cause I'm hot like that
Every guy everywhere just gives me mad attention
Like I'm under inspection, I always get the 10s
'Cause I'm built like that

I go through guys like money flyin' out their hands
They try to change me but they realize they can't
And every tomorrow is a day I never planned
If you're gonna be my man, understand

[Chorus]
I can't be tamed, I can't be saved
I can't be blamed, I can't, can't
I can't be tamed, I can't be changed

in one of Miley's first singles, the chorus goes "blah blah blah... she's just being Miley."** see a pattern? don't let the erratic dance moves confuse you, Miley's not trying to empower anyone, she just wants a nicer, more lyrical way of saying, "I'M A HOT, ENTITLED, POP STAR BRAT. I DO WHAT I WANT!"

now, this wouldn't be such a mondo problem if it just stopped there. i wouldn't be writing this long-winded blog post if just a few smart, well-spoken ladies believed Miley (or Christina Aguilera, or Madonna, or Tina Fey, or etc.) was doing a really innovative and daring thing by singing about her selfish wanton desires, and confused her entitlement anthems for empowerment anthems. but, because pop culture and pop music is so pervasive, everyone starts to think these things, and this kind of thinking becomes ingrained into our daily lives, becomes practiced by real-life tweens on the street, becomes a chronic problem of irreverence and disregard among our young people.

you see, as a teacher in South Central Los Angeles, it is almost a daily topic of conversation and source of wonderment among the teachers, as we walk to our cars at the end of each day, "what is wrong with the kids these days!?" i never thought i would say it, and i guess it's a sign i'm getting old, but the behaviors of children these days is perpetually perplexing, befuddling, and bewildering. students cursing off adults who are trying to teach them, students pushing or touching teachers, students standing in the way of a teacher refusing to move, huffing and puffing as if they are engaged in some prelude to fighting ritual. my aide says, every time we have this conversation, "kids have more rights than adults to these days" and though i was hesitant to concur, i believe she may be right. there are no consequences strong enough to make an impression on a student in my school, so many will push their limits until they eventually are escorted out in handcuffs and served with fines. students come to school wearing whatever they want and argue with principals about the uniform, and sit in class looking cute but not learning anything. one of my students is doing math at a pre-kindergarten level (she cannot add without assistance and frequently doesn't know how to count past ten) and comes late to school each day because she spends her mornings straightening her hair and putting on her mascara. she got her nails done the other day and refused to use a pencil for fear of snapping a nail off.

my point is, maybe if our culture didn't glorify material self-worship, we wouldn't have young women walking around in high heels, booty shorts and low-cut tops, mouthing off to adults and carrying themselves with arrogance, thinking that they are being strong, confident females. maybe if we gave them role models with some sense and sensibility, we'd have some more respect and self-respect among our youth. it is so pathetic how starved of feminist idols we are that we will jump at the opportunity to call someone so clearly wrong a "feminist."

-stephan!e


*some might argue Lady GaGa, and as much as i love her performances and vision, never once considered her a feminist. an artist, sure (which is more than i can say about Miley) but not a feminist in the way Betty Friedan was a feminist. end of story.
** disclaimer: i only know this song because i work out at the gym a lot.

self-fulfilling prophecy

"Stephanie Says"

stephanie says that she wants to know

why she's given half her life to people she hates now

stephanie says that she wants to know

why it is that she's the door, she can't be the room

but she's not afraid to die,

the people all call her alaska

it's so cold in alaska, it's so cold in alaska

----

how does it feel to be so exposed?

how does it feel to be so alone?

they don't know me...

a tale of two cities

i miss the accessible smallness of my hometown, lexington, ky. los angeles is such a sprawling mess of tangled freeways and traffic that i can't make myself enjoy the immensity of the city because the moment i get in a car it's road rage stephanie, and she's no fun to be around.

today, lexington's smallness was most tangibly felt in the form of an exhilirating bike ride. i really miss the bike as a tenable form of transportation. growing up, the bike was an accessory for recreational neighborhood cruising. living in chicago changed that, the bike became a vehicle for daily revolution, a war horse for corking traffic. it is amazing how a city opens up before you when you have two wheels and yr feet to take you anywhere, unbound to the flow of traffic, easily taking yrself off the map and into walkable terrain, cutting between lines and breezing by waiting cars.

as i rode my bike to the ice cream store today, i felt young and vibrant like a kid again. being on the bike felt so good, i couldn't help smiling the whole time, up against traffic, wind in my face, singing "Thunder Road"* the whole way there, and "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" the whole way back.

i kept thinking, american history has got it all wrong. independence wasn't born on the wheels of the Model T, nor was it found in the cross-country voyages of bikers on Harley Davidsons. it was this, right here, a girl jumping on a bike and pedaling her way thru bluegrass, independent of petroleum and the help of her parents to deliver her to her destination.

when i get back to LA, i'm finding myself a bike. everything seems better from the saddle of a bike.

and behold! the wonderful glisten of post-biking sweat!

love and stuff,
s


*"...well the night's busting open, these two lanes'll take us anywhere! we got one last chance to make it real, to trade in these wings on some wheels. climb in back, heaven's waiting on down the tracks..."

transatlanticism

do you ever think you know a song, listen to it for an entire period of your life, put it on playlists or put it on before you go to bed, hum it while walking to work or school or etc., but for years you don't listen to it and it gets buried under new music and podcasts and you feel like you kinda outgrew it. and then one day, you remember something about the lyrics, one haunting phrase ("i need you so much closer"), and then you are compelled to re-excavate it, whereupon you discover what you may have known before but had forgotten, your new circumstances giving you new cause – or perhaps reminding you why – you liked it in the first place.

it's like falling in love all over again.

today, it was this:

the atlantic was born today and i'll tell you how:
the clouds above opened up and let it out.

I was standing on the surface of a perforated sphere
when the water filled every hole.
and thousands upon thousands made an ocean,
making islands where no island should go.
oh no.

those people were overjoyed; they took to their boats.
I thought it less like a lake and more like a moat.
the rhythm of my footsteps crossing flood lands to your door have been silenced forever more.
the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row
it seems farther than ever before
oh no.

I need you so much closer

-Death Cab for Cutie, "Transatlanticism"

dancing in the dark

i've said it before, and i'll continue to say it again: i love The Boss.


nothing encapsulates the complexity of being born in america in the 1980s like Springsteen and synthesizer, and i mean this in earnest. while the musical and cultural products of the '80s as a whole would seem to have tainted history's perception of the decade, what with the proliferation of horrible one-hit wonders and abusive overuse of the moog, The Boss remains the 80s' single greatest gift to American music. and what's more, he's the gift that keeps on giving (thank you!)

that's because there is a permanence to Springsteen's music that defied the limits of 1980s materialism and spectacle (the same values American Psycho critiques in this scene). while '80s hair bands and rock groups found short-lived success by cannibalizing tried and true guitar riffs and appealing to a brief moment's gaudy aesthetics and conventions, Springsteen wrote epic stories about human suffering and loneliness, about working night shifts in steel factories, driving thru abandoned city streets, love, desperation, the hunger and hope for a better life. in short, the american dream and the american way of life.

and though Springsteen's staunchly american aesthetic can be a deterrent to some (my boyfriend once described it as "jingoistic"), it is precisely the way in which he represents America that i find seductive. he sings of heroes doomed to Sysiphean fates, working low wage jobs and searching for escape. unlike the ass-kicking beer-swigging mythos of modern country music, Springsteen's music is complex, genuine, underscored with hardship and persistence. while the former are simulacra, Springsteen's America possesses a history of emotion and suffering. yet, there is a gloomy/gritty hopefulness – despite feeling so defeated, there remains release and splendor, in a midnight drive, in a passionate embrace, in that guitar, in that harmonica, in a dance in the dark.

this is an America i can identify with and feel proud of, one that struggles to overcome disillusionment, but struggles unflichingly.

---

to put it in other terms: i rediscovered the album Born in the USA this weekend, 2+ decades after its initial release. i was reluctant to listen to it, not knowing if the music would translate well over the expanse of time. i worried that the synthesizers would make me cringe. but this is perhaps a fitting example of the complexity i'm talking about, that the same music revisited not only revealed layers, but became more beautiful because of its history coupled with my experience. the synthesizers not only go unnoticed, but sound like organs. they're an artifact of the zeitgeist of the 80s, but not a distractor from the permanence of the music.

i used to listen to Bruce Springsteen in the car with my mom on the weekends. his music would come on the radio and i would sing along to words whose sentiments i didn't fully understand. back then, i only understood them as a widely experienced "happy" feeling, the same excitement as a surprise trip to get ice cream, or a snow day.

as a young girl growing up, watching the "Dancing in the Dark" video would make me so terribly happy that the only logical impulse was to dance uncontrollably in the living room of our suburban house, flailing arms and kicking my legs, pretending to snap, shaking my hair. to be honest, i still do that. Courteney Cox was a real-life hero as far as i was concerned, b/c she had the balls to get up on stage and dance with The Boss. i wanted to be her. i mean, who didn't?

Bruce Springsteen - Dancing In The Dark (1984)
by GMRedskins

but i feel even more elated watching this video today, myself now a grown woman, as i listen to the lyrics, which speak to me in ways i couldn't have understood them before:

I get up in the evening
and I ain't got nothing to say
I come home in the morning
I go to bed feeling the same way
I ain't nothing but tired
Man I'm just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help

[...]

Message keeps getting clearer
radio's on and I'm moving 'round the place
I check my look in the mirror
I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face
Man I ain't getting nowhere
I'm just living in a dump like this
There's something happening somewhere
baby I just know that there is

[...]

You sit around getting older
there's a joke here somewhere and it's on me
I'll shake this world off my shoulders
come on baby this laugh's on me

Stay on the streets of this town
and they'll be carving you up alright
They say you gotta stay hungry
hey baby I'm just about starving tonight
I'm dying for some action
I'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this book
I need a love reaction
come on now baby gimme just one look

You can't start a fire sitting 'round crying over a broken heart
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
You can't start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancing in the dark

--"Dancing in the Dark"

there's a restlessness i can identify with here, as i sit in my apartment in LA, wondering how i got so caught up with my job, feeling old, wondering where the excitement went in my life. i'm tired of sitting around getting older, trying to write this book, i'm tired of having nothing to say, and worrying about my little world falling apart. i ain't nothing but tired, i'm just tired and bored with myself. i'm dying for some action, i want to dance, i want a little spark.

and this is why i love Bruce Springsteen. there is endurance in his music that never fails to make me happy. i listen to his music now and understand, completely, why every man, woman and child growing up in america for the last few decades has been absolutely seduced by his dream of america.

-stephan!e

to help make my case:
"I'm On Fire" [mp3]
"Thunder Road" [mp3 - how can you not fall in love with that harmonica solo?]
"Thunder Road (Live in 1999)" [mp3]

+ a fellow blogger's analysis of Springsteen's music and a comparison to the Stones.

+ Bruce Springsteen's website, with lyrics and audio clips.

and my memory is so fucking unclear

this Unicorns video made me smile so much i almost squeezed some tears out. it made me think of my friends, and dancing in an apartment in the summer in the dark, and how much i wish we could go back a few months and relive certain moments.

some things should last forever.

who was i with? what time was it? where did you go?

love,
stef

maple leaves

"oh please God bring relief
even if it's only brief
she says that we were just make-believe
but I thought she said maple leaves...
... and when she talked about the fall
I thought she talked about the season
I never understood at all."

- Maple Leaves [mp3] by Jens Lekman.

that's me three years ago, enjoying a wallow in the leaves with friends.
this became an annual tradition for me and a few friends, oh i miss it so!
[photo credit Se4n.]

i got an email from my friend Sara tonight. she gave me an update on the goings-on back home, the activisms i've left behind, and she spoke of the leaves in the Fall and how spectacular they are. i can hardly believe it: one season spent away from home and i've already forgotten what it means to have an autumn, to feel the weather change and to trade in flip flops for boots, to bundle up and enjoy a walk with crisp leaves underfoot, the smell of summer leaving the leaves, the smell of air pressure changing and the way the woods get damper and colder and the smell of the rocks on the trails.

i miss all those things. i was just thinking about the last week of school last year. i remember one night walking out to my car, it must've been close to midnight, and the stars were out and the moon was brilliant and casting crisp light onto the treetops, and the wind was perfect, just chilly enough to justify wearing my jacket, my hands grateful for the large pockets. it was hushed and peaceful that night, unusually calm, i think finals were winding down and everyone had worn themselves out from studying or partying, or had moved home early. i remember pausing in the middle of the parking lot, craning my neck to stare at the sky, trying to remember what the immensity of that moment felt like. it was perfect. i wanted to live in that moment forever.

i miss the way weather affects my mood. in LA, i don't have good days just because of the way the sun is shining differently (because it never varies) and i don't get to appreciate the way the wind feels extra comforting one day over the rest. i miss those fall days when the weather is such a seductive companion, stealing you away from your work, abandoning work that always remains, always accumulates, to enjoy fleeting moments of sunshine and breeze.

her email made me homesick. i miss the feeling of fall. here, it gets cold enough to make me enjoy my bed's warmth, to make it harder to get up in the mornings, but when i get off from work, it's still 90 degrees out and smoggy. i want to live in a place where the seasons change.

-stef

p.s. i wrote this post with the hope that some of you could send me photos of the changing leaves. it would help me to remember home. send to free [dot] radical [dot] lee [at] gmail [dot] com. thx!

you ain't a beauty but hey you're alright

i think i change my mind too quickly about things. any little thing sets me off or rubs me the wrong way and i'm too quick to turn my back on it, i think.

i'm trying to learn to be more patient with people and circumstances, to realize that not everyone is crazy like me and thinks so much about what they say. even i have moments of semantic relapse, so i should be forgiving of others for theirs too.

i need to remember the ppl who need me, but try to remember my own needs as well.

[just a little note to self.]

---

in other news: i'm listening to music again. Morrisey's "everyday is like sunday" came on the radio earlier this week while i was driving to the grocery store, against the flow of traffic, and it was probably the most wonderful 4 minutes of driving i've ever experienced in this horrible town. driving with the windows down, singing in sync to lyrics you know ("come, come, nuclear bomb!"), what could be a simpler pleasure?

and i rediscovered my unadulterated love for Grizzly Bear. i'm listening to them as i write this, watching the Santa Ana winds lift the branches of the trees outside my window. it's getting dark out and finally, it's beginning to feel like the year is coming to a close. "colorado, colorado, col-oh-raaa-ah-ah-ah-doooh..." oh i could listen to this all day. bliss.



and surprise: as i was distracting myself from studying for my grad school midterms by reading The Fix's live-tweeting of Tuesday's debate, i rediscovered Bruce Springsteen. this video for "thunder road" (hot damn! i can't get enough of that opening harmonica. and possibly the greatest Boss line ever: "you ain't a beauty but hey you're alright." = epic.) made me hunt down 2 of The Boss's albums, and surprise!: Magic [2008] is pretty good!



that's all from me for now. it's friday. go out, enjoy yr freedom from work and celebrate a lack of commitments and obligations! i'm gonna crank my music and burn thru these 6th grade unit tests.

love and stuff,
stef

save your day

"do what you must,
you need to be brave to save your day."

===

the end of summer came suddenly. here in LA, all the restaurants and pubs were lamenting the death of summer, trying to sell off the last of their summer wine collections and closing the patio seating. i spent the weekend walking thru thrift stores looking for a sweater that would remind me of the sweaters i have back home.

i watch the days pass thru my window in the apartment, watch the sunlight change angles on the tree leaves, wait for leaves to fall, wait for night to get cold, wait for december so i can fly home and lie down in the snow and grass and drink hot chocolate in the kitchen of my house and feel warm again.

this video captures the kind of sepia hues and nostalgic tones i meant when i wrote this post.

there are no words to describe how i'm feeling lately, only images. and i feel a little lost because i do not know how to produce them myself, only share them.

-stef

introduction

i can't stop listening to this song by Voxtrot. it fits my mood and the way i've been feeling lately, like flipping thru a stack of polaroids you found tucked away, all sepia tones and childhood memories, a feeling of loss and recovery – "i won't know how much i've lost until i've gone away."


i imagine all my childhood memories – raking leaves and jumping in the piles, taking bike rides to the park with my mom and dad, picking apples in the country on weekends, hanging Halloween decorations in the yard, the brisk chill of getting in the pool at the end of the summer – flashing thru a projector, reflecting off a screen and flashing on my face. there is jumping, there is running, there is dancing, and there is laughter.

it's getting colder as it slowly turns to autumn in LA, and i am having vestigial memories and longings for the changing leaves, cool breezes and indian summers, the look of grass (of bluegrass!) and the smell of my neighborhood at dusk, and the look of the sky, which somehow i remember seeming closer to earth and looking softer than it does here, where it is far away and tinged with gray, immense yet distant and always revealing itself to make me feel small and alone.

i listen to this and imagine driving home from school to surprise my parents, imagine stepping my foot in the door and seeing them emerge from the living room, running to hug me. or i imagine blasting this in my car late at night, as i drive thru the deserted streets in oxford, ohio, to meet a friend for drinks, to crash at someone's house for a sleepover, to go to my boyfriend's house and sit on the couch and talk. it's a rush to feel at home again.

this is music that makes my feet move. they want to hit the pavement, to start running, to put pedal to the metal and drive drive drive, to find endless roads and listen to this on repeat. as the music picks up, i get closer and closer to home.

-stef

---

"Introduction" by Voxtrot
Open your eyes and stretch your hands
This house is clean but it is not my home
Did I make this bed
The two hands touch on two

Sometimes I think of some place colder
The sound of traffic and the way it's worn
When you feel yourself grow up inside of here

And you love me just like a stranger
But you love me just like I am

Remember we ran through lovely streets
We made our rules and then we broke them first
It felt like we were running all the time
When I wouldn't give one ugly moment
I'd wrap it up, I'd keep it in my sock
I can keep it, yeah, I know what's yours is mine

And you love me just like a stranger
But you love me when

I step into the sea, it let's me love some other day
We get bored of weakness all the time
Now I won't know how much I lost until I've gone away
Your sun sets when my sun starts to shine

should we pretend?

from Dr. Dog's "The Rabbit The Bat and The Reindeer," off their new album Fate (2008):

Well, I don't want a thing to do with your kind
And I ain't got no time to kill on your dime
Strung up, hanging 'round
Looking like you're upside down

Well, I ain't wanting to shed no blood, that's your crime
And I ain't wanting to sling no mud, I clean it up
You ain't what I'd call a friend
I wouldn't even if I could pretend
Man, you ain't like anybody else

As night becomes the sun to rise
As dirt becomes the butterflies
As sure as though it always seems to stay the same
And I'll be waiting anxiously
And I'll be falling fast asleep
And I'll be dreaming of the day the dream died
Uh huh

No sticks, no stones could break my bones like you can
If I knew hate, I'd call it love for you, man
High up on the hill, cheaper than a dollar bill
Man, you ain't like anybody else

Should we pretend that it's the end?
Are you my curse or are you my friend?
And if we got hit to the end of the road
Will you be there to carry my load?

I'm getting it back with that terrible feeling
My vision is cracked, but it looks like it's healing
I'm getting it back like it's four in the morning
When the sun only shines as if it's giving a warning
I'm getting it back with the rest of the leap year
I'm keeping the rabbit, the bat, and the reindeer
I'm getting it out, whatever I've gotta keep in
I'm telling the truth, said it don't win with pretend
Should we pretend?
Should we pretend?
Should we pretend?

check it: [mp3]
(and check out the new album. it really hits home in the second half, makes me forget to move at high speeds, reminds me to take 'er easy and wind down for a sit and stare on a windy porch...)

love-ing it. it's thursday night, which means i'm probly gonna be awake to greet Friday morning.

never have i been so eager to Thank God for it!

-stef

now that you're gone...

"now that you're gone, things don't seem the same.
i may just have to give them different names...
like 'soaking wet blanket,' for the sky.
and 'faded black stars,' for your eyes..."

-from Eef Barzelay's "Song for Batya"

i really liked listening to this song this afternoon after i came back from a 1.5 hour run. i just kept running, starting on LMU's campus, the doors of my dorm, and it felt like the sidewalk opened up before me and i wanted to run until i reached the edge of everything and could peer over the side, maybe sit on that edge and dangle my feet off the end of the earth. i imagine the expanse of space feeling like a cool stream tickling my toes...

i ended up running through one parade, an outdoor concert/festival (there were men dressed as army men, singing that song that goes "living in america..." and there were people clothed in american flags eating hot dogs and cotton candy), a block party, a cookout, a grocery store (where i realized i could buy apples for almost $2/pound cheaper than where i'm going now, though it's a far longer distance to walk), a pool party, someone's garden that i thought was an extension of sidewalk, to the roof of a greenhouse where i stopped for a while under a gnarly tree to think and look out over the expanse of L.A. city and wave at the Pacific, then kept running and running until i realized i'd reached the airport and there were planes landing overhead and decided to turn around.

i came back, not any less frustrated or unhappy (no runner's high this time, which was an unfortunate disappointment, the last time i ran for far less and felt like i'd just gone to the moon! - though my shin cramps the next day felt like punishment) and decided to keep walking until i cooled down. i went to the bluffs, where i like to sit and watch hummingbirds in the trees, but this time i found a lawn chair waiting for me on a rocky ledge, away from the trees but on the very brink of the bluff, and sat there and looked across L.A., wondering what the ppl of this city were doing to celebrate their country.

i came back and did some stretches in the dark, and listened to Eef, and for some reason, those words stood out.

and now, again, i hear Eef's words over the whir of my mind and my laptop:

"...but i still want to jump..."

happy independence day
-stef

the happiest kind of doom

I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG [mp3]. i listen to it on repeat and love it, even though/despite/in spite/to spite/because i know someone i love very much hates this song.

this is fevered, obsessive, destructive love.*

"the cruelty's so predictable."
-stephan!e

========

"The past is a grotesque animal
And in its eyes you see
How completely wrong you can be
How completely wrong you can be

The sun is out, it melts the snow that fell yesterday
Makes you wonder why it bothered

I fell in love with the first cute girl that I met
Who could appreciate Georges Bataille
Standing at Swedish festival discussing "Story of the Eye"
Discussing "Story of the Eye"

It's so embarrassing to need someone like I do you
How can I explain, I need you here and not here too
How can I explain, I need you here and not here too

I'm flunking out, I'm flunking out, I'm gone, I'm just gone
But at least I author my own disaster
At least I author my own disaster

Performance breakdown and I don't want to hear it
I'm just not available
Things could be different but they're not
Things could be different but they're not

The mousy girl screams, "Violence! Violence!"
The mousy girl screams, "Violence! Violence!"
She gets hysterical because they're both so mean
And it's my favorite scene
But the cruelty's so predictable
It makes you sad on the stage
Though our love project has so much potential
But it's like we weren't made for this world
(Though I wouldn't really want to meet someone who was)

Do I have to scream in your face?
I've been dodging lamps and vegetables
Throw it all in my face, I don't care

Let's just have some fun
Let's tear this shit apart
Let's tear the fucking house apart
Let's tear our fucking bodies apart
But let's just have some fun

Somehow you've red-rovered the gestapo circling my heart
And nothing can defeat you
No death, no ugly world

You've lived so brightly
You've altered everything
I find myself searching for old selves
While speeding forward through the plate glass of maturing cells

I've played the unraveler, the parhelion
But even apocalypse is fleeting
There's no death, no ugly world

Sometimes I wonder if you're mythologizing me like I do you
Mythologizing me like I do you

We want our film to be beautiful, not realistic
Perceive me in the radiance of terror dreams
And you can betray me
You can, you can betray me

But teach me something wonderful
Crown my head, crowd my head
With your lilting effects
Project your fears on to me, I need to view them
See, there's nothing to them
I promise you, there's nothing to them

I'm so touched by your goodness
You make me feel so criminal
How do you keep it together?
I'm all, all unraveled

But you know, no matter where we are
We're always touching by underground wires

I've explored you with the detachment of an analyst
But most nights we've raided the same kingdoms
And none of our secrets are physical
None of our secrets are physical
None of our secrets are physical now"

-from Of Montreal's "The Past is a Grotesque Animal", from the Hissing Fauna (2007) album

*i think all he hears is the destruction, the agitation. i sometimes wish that's all i heard, too.